


arrival

by sheelia



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Coming of Age, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheelia/pseuds/sheelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Himuro presses his cheek against the glass of the train window, it burns. It is a collision of two opposing forces: the cool of the winter against the warmth of his skin, years of running away and now, finally going home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	arrival

**Author's Note:**

> i was actually writing something else but i had no brain juice to continue, so this happened instead. i don't exactly have a good grasp of both their characters yet, so if you have any insights pls do share! (▰˘◡˘▰)
> 
> inspired by the covers of the [ 虹はめぐる series ](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/fuwacchi/28816041/80425/80425_original.jpg)

When Himuro presses his cheek against the glass of the train window, it burns. It is a collision of two opposing forces: the cool of the winter against the warmth of his skin, years of running away and now, finally going home. His fingers absently fiddle with the train ticket in his hands, flicking the corner back and forth like a page of a book.

Winter is coming to a close. Snowfall is already starting to slow, but the wind still bites and seeps in every time the train doors open at each stop. He wishes he's chosen a better seat, but the ride is almost full. There's an empty seat opposite him, but he'd rather not deal with riding backwards for the remaining three hours back.

The train stops according to its pre-determined route, its metal doors sliding open, letting in a strong gust of wind that blows the papers on his table onto his lap and floor.

Every good thing has to somehow come to an end. After years at university, and another few months he had dedicated to "finding himself", it was finally time to return to the boring drawl of day-to-day life, which inevitably led to job applications and other mind-numbing paperwork. He had printed the entire stack in the cozy (i.e. extremely stuffy and claustrophobic) business center in the youth hostel he stayed at. The printer gave up on him twice, but a good slap, followed by a gentle caress got it sputtering back to life.

With a sigh, Himuro ducks underneath the grey plastic counter between the two seats to retrieve his bloody paperwork. He hears a lazy shuffling of feet, and from his vantage point he notes the worn leather combat boots, followed by a voice, asking, "Hey, is this seat taken?"

Himuro shakes his head, then realizes that he's still crouched underneath the counter, so he replies, "No. Go ahead."

After collecting the sheets of paper, he slips back into his seat, releasing another sigh. He looks at the man across him, hair a calm shade of lavender with a fringe that falls over his forehead. He is in the middle of shrugging off his parka off his shoulders; a man of this size looks awkward in a tiny seat like this.

"Oh," Himuro simply says, a word carelessly thrown out into the cold air between them in an effort to stall for more time.

The man gives Himuro a derisive snort, "Hey Muro-chin, nice to see you're alive too."

"Ha ha, very funny, Atsushi. And is that-" Himuro pauses, pointing at the white specks on Murasakibara's black jumper. "Snow?"

Murasakibara's large hands sweep the front of his jumper, albeit in a half-assed manner, "Nah, powdered donuts."

He holds up the plastic bag containing said donuts between them as an explanation.

Murasakibara places the box on the table and opens it up, pushing it in Himuro's direction. He says, "Take one. It's awesome."

Himuro's hand twitches, his fingers gripping the fabric of his baggy sweatpants. Murasakibara sharing his food is a new revelation. Objectively speaking this is behavior expected of five year olds, but sometimes old habits die hard and of all people, he had never expected Murasakibara to change.

"Muro-chin, you there?" Murasakibara prompts, nudging the box.

Himuro laughs quietly, smiling for the first time in a long while. "Yeah, yeah," he chimes, reaching out for a donut.

It's not polite to talk with food in his mouth, so Himuro makes it a point to eat his donut slowly. He looks out at the scenery rushing past him as he chews. The trees and buildings blend into an indistingushable mix of light brown and grey. If he stares at a street lamp in the distance, it won't zoom past him, but move along with him.

When Himuro swallows the last of his donut, Murasakibara asks, "So like, what have you been up to all these years? Haven't seen you much since you graduated from Yosen."

So this is Murasakibara making an attempt at actual conversation. Courtesy and pleasantry, Himuro can deal with. He's spent years practicing, anyway.

Himuro tells him about university briefly, boring Murasakibara with mundane details about his major and how he has to become a responsible adult now. Murasakibara listens, and Himuro watches his long fingers curling around the handle of the cup on his thermos.

"So where are you heading, Atsushi?" Himuro ends his monologue with a question.

Murasakibara breaks into a grin, "Same place you are, Muro-chin. I'm going home."

 

~~~

 

The train makes a ten minute stop at the interchange. It's still early in the morning and the sun hasn't reached the apex of its trajectory. Both of them hop off the train to get some warm coffee from the vending machine out on the platform. The light wind brushes Himuro's cheek softly, reminding him of his mother.

He fishes out some coins from his pocket, placing his hand on Murasakibara's shoulder, saying, "My treat."

They watch the vending machine vibrate to life. The piece of junk fills their cups with a long black and a latte respectively, but when they compare their cups the coffee looks the same shade. Not really what Himuro had expected, but he gulps the thing down anyway. The back of his throat stings, either from the heat or the rancid  taste, and he feels something else stirring from his stomach.

Down to an hour left before the train reaches home. He doesn't know where this nervousness is stemming from. Maybe it has to do with all his insecurities rising up, sparked by the coincidental appearance of his former team mate and friend.

 

~~~

 

They engage in idle chatter for the rest of the train ride. Murasakibara tells him about university basketball and is visibly shocked when Himuro tells him that he'd quit competitively.

"I thought you loved basketball," Murasakibara asks.

"I do," Himuro replies. "Just."

Himuro leaves his sentence at that, not really sure how to continue.

The entire topic seems to have struck Himuro at a delicate spot. Murasakibara notices the glassy look in Himuro's eyes.

"I think I know where you're coming from," Murasakibara mutters.

Himuro raises his eyebrows.

"I'm not really sure, honestly. But I've always thought you were special at basketball. You were good with everything, really," Murasakibara mumbles casually.

He continues, "Missed having you next to me to boss me around. You should have seen me pack my luggage before I got on the train. You would have exploded."

Murasakibara gives a cheeky grin and laughs a little to lighten to mood.

Himuro really doesn't know what to say now. More specifically, he doesn't know what to believe.

Five minutes later, he excuses himself to use the restroom. The restroom is vacant, so Himuro walks in, closes the door, and leans his body against the sink, hands gripping the sides of the basin. The metal is, unsurprisingly, cold, causing his body to instinctively flinch.

He's spent years drilling it in that he's never good enough, and won't ever be. Alex, Taiga, and even Atsushi... What would they know? It takes some effort to calm the warring states in his head.

He has to remind himself that this is what he's here for. This is why he's done running, and this is why he's finally letting himself find his way home.

 

~~~

 

When they finally reach their destination, Himuro has more or less regained his composure. He's exchanged phone numbers with Murasakibara, agreeing to meet again soon. ("Don't bail on me again, Muro-chin," Murasakibara had whined. Some things never change.)

Himuro stands up and heads towards the end of the carraige to retrieve his luggage, with Murasakibara following behind him, his chest pressed against his back in a closeness that Himuro has kind of missed.

"By the way, Muro-chin," Murasakibara remembers to say. "You're not alone. You've got me."

Himuro, grasping the handle of his satchel tightly, swings the bag around Murasakibara to give him a hug.

There are many words to describe a story, a beginning and an end. Himuro chooses, "Thanks."


End file.
